


Storm Dance

by HardNoctLife



Series: Summer Gladnis Week 2019 - HardNoctLife [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Universe, Dancing in the Rain, Feelings, Fluff, Gladnis, Gladnis Week, M/M, One Shot, Rain, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Summer, Summer Gladnis Week 2019, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-08 04:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: Summer Gladnis Week 2019, Day 6: "Caught in the rain." Adjectives: "Melancholy/Comfortable"Gladio convinces Ignis to forgo the umbrella and embrace the storm.





	Storm Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt gave me the most trouble for some reason. I went through about six different draft ideas before you got what you see here.

[](https://ibb.co/CBYs8sj)

Humidity weighs down Insomnia’s air, the sizzling heat building unbearably as it becomes trapped in-between buildings, hovering over streets and sidewalks. When the thunder rolls and the lightning strikes, the Crown City will be drowned in precipitation, offering relief, if only temporarily.

Ignis and Gladio have left their Crownsguard training session late, sweaty and aching in that way that told them they’d both sleep well that night.

It had been Gladio’s idea to walk.

“We could call a car,” Ignis protests.

“C’mon Specs, live a little,” Gladio chides with his signature grin. The lightning dances in the Shield’s eyes and the electricity reflected in them is enough to make Ignis tingle from head to toe. He gives in to the impulse of the prince’s Shield without a fight.

When a sudden _boom _shakes the city not even a minute later, rattling through them both, Ignis jumps in surprise. Gladio can only chuckle, eyebrow arching.

“Scared, Iggy?”

“Should I have reason to be?” Ignis shoots back, scanning him. It’s a look that the advisor has perfected over years of dealing with Noctis, but it seems appropriate for the situation. Gladio’s laughter rivals the thunder in its rumble.

“Nah, you know I’ll protect you.” Ignis scoffs a little, as if to say _I don’t need you to protect me,_ but Gladio catches the curve of his friend’s lips before he turns away, and it makes his heart thud unnaturally within his broad chest. That little skip has been happening more and more lately as they spend more time training together, and he isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

They press on as a strange feeling settles in Gladio’s stomach—a weird mix of queasy and elated— and he shoves his wandering thoughts aside, moving quicker as precipitation starts to spit from the clouds.

There’s another earthshaking _BOOM_ and suddenly the drizzle becomes a downpour, water falling hard and fast, hot asphalt sending up steam. Ignis makes a sound of alarm that has Gladio snickering as they sprint under a café’s awning for cover. He watches as the advisor takes off his glasses and wipes them with the edge of his t-shirt, smearing the lenses with rain drops. Ignis sighs.

“Well,” he pauses, and they listen to the steady tumult against the pavement. The storm shows no signs of slowing anytime soon, and their loose sparring pants are already damp at the bottom. Gladio can almost see the gears turning in Ignis’s head as he thinks.

“My apartment is only a couple blocks away,” Gladio offers casually.

“I’ll call a car,” Ignis responds, and the expression he gives his friend is an _I told you so, _but Gladio shrugs, not fazed in the slightest.

“Or we could make a break for it.” The Shield revels in Ignis’s indignance. For a minute, he thinks that Ignis will continue to dial, phone already in hand, but to the man’s surprise, his friend hesitates.

“We will get soaked.”

“We both need showers anyway,” Gladio says, and Ignis shoves his cell back in his pocket, lips pursing in acknowledgement of a point well made. “When’s the last time you got caught in a storm?” he presses curiously.

Ignis is attempting for a second time to clean his glasses, delaying his answer. “I usually pack an umbrella.”

_Of course he fucking does._ There is a short laugh from the larger man.

Then, Gladio’s gaze lifts to the angry sky as if in challenge to Ramuh himself. He doesn’t seem to notice the pair of eyes that are observing him with wonder and admiration.

“See, there’s your problem right there.”

The advisor’s eyebrows furrow in response to Gladio’s statement. The Shield turns, and suddenly Ignis finds himself fixed with the same challenging stare, all the heat of the summer paling in comparison to the warmth that surges inside him.

“You haven’t danced in the rain.”

There is a small, yet sharp intake of breath, lost in the thunder.

Gladio has extended his hand teasingly, and Ignis stares at it as if it’s a wild animal that might suddenly bite him.

“Excuse me, sir, but may I have this dance?”

The question is light and innocent, surely meant to be a joke, but Ignis is secretly thankful for the noise all around them. It drowns out the rapid beating of the man’s heart, giving him a few extra seconds to recalibrate.

Gladio holds his arm and smile perfectly still, hopeful. Lightning zigzags in the distance over Ignis’s shoulder and the Shield continues to wait, wondering how long is appropriate before it makes things awkward. 

When Ignis tentatively places his hand in Gladio’s, it takes everything for the dark-haired boy not to squeeze until their bones crack, a thrill suddenly shooting through him.

They are both frozen for a moment, mirroring the other’s expression of surprise. Neither one expected this particular chain of events, and are now stuck, unaware they are thinking the same thing.

_Now what?_

“Will you lead, or shall I?” The words are smooth, Ignis’s smile lilting—another practiced expression—and although Gladio has seen it countless times before, his brain kicks into overdrive, picking up his heart’s slack.

“You’re new to this, so let me handle it.”

“After you, then.”

_Right._ Gladio peers up at the clouds again before taking a deep breath. Without warning, he steps out from the awning, dragging Ignis with him.

The Shield sets off at a run that has Ignis thrown slightly off balance, but the man recovers admirably, sputtering through the water that instantaneously drenches them. They’re both gasping from the sensations that assault their skin, cool and hot jumbled together, pulses matching the fast pace of the rain. They create waves as they plow through puddles with abandon, embracing the storm's onslaught, splashing and jumping into the rivers that now rage through the city's streets. Recently high school graduates, they are now children again. Gladio's heart is in the clouds, infused with the storm's energy.

After a few blocks pass by that way, they slow, still hand-in-hand, neither one of them wanting to be the first to let go. Eventually, Gladio looks over and laughs at how Ignis’s hair and clothing is now plastered to him, glasses rendered utterly useless. Ignis looks more amused than annoyed, chuckling in turn.

“I was promised a dance,” the advisor hums when they finally round the corner that leads to Gladio’s street.

They are walking, comfortably soaked. Their fingers remain intertwined, hearts now resuming a suitable cadence. Gladio considers his words carefully.

“Might need some music.”

Ignis gestures to the sky as it grumbles. “This will suffice.” It makes Gladio pause, the two now standing in front of his apartment complex in downtown Insomnia.

Quite abruptly, he realizes how nervous he actually is, hand pulling free. It is as if a spell is broken, and Gladio suddenly reconsiders every action of the past half hour, usual bravado slipping away and down a nearby drain with a rush of rainwater. Ignis’s head tilts to the side in question.

It shouldn’t be that difficult. Gladio has danced plenty of times with numerous people—and yet.

Ignis’s pale green eyes render Gladio immobile. The Shield temporarily forgets to breathe as he watches his closest friend—and maybe something more—bow, incredibly poised for someone whose shirt has become see-through. Then, Gladio finds his hands are being seized again, and he is defenseless, defeated by Ignis’s charm. 

The dance is stuttered at first, but it is a simple waltz, and Gladio falls in rhythm easily despite being unaccustomed to having to follow. Ignis’s steps are seamless, the falling rain like a metronome providing the count, and when the advisor brings his head to rest on Gladio’s shoulder, the both close their eyes.

Gladio listens to the storm’s song and Ignis’s gentle breaths.

When the rain stops, they don’t notice at first. Then the sun peeks its head through the clouds as they finish their last revolution, laughing once the clouds lift.

“That was short lived.” Gladio’s comment is ambiguous enough that it could be referring to more than just the storm.

Ignis’s eyes gleam in the new light. “All the sweeter for its brevity.”

There’s a lull, Gladio hesitating.

“Want to come in and dry off?”

There is nothing subtle about the way Ignis leans in close. Gladio had nearly forgotten they were still holding one another, one of Ignis’s hands perched on the Shield’s hip bone.

“Will there be more dancing involved?” Gladio thinks Ignis is _definitely_ messing with him now, and the queasy elation from earlier ratchets up a notch.

“If you want.”

Gladio wants to tell Ignis the truth, that the advisor is, and has been, his only weakness for as long as he can remember, and that this was an excuse to get close to him, but all he can do is stare and pray he isn’t coming off like a love-sick idiot.

If he is, Ignis pretends not to notice.

They trudge up the stairs to Gladio’s apartment, and he fumbles with the keys clumsily, hands still wet. When the lock clicks he leans into the door to open it, letting Ignis in first. Both of them shudder as the air conditioning hits their wet skin. Goosebumps rise along Gladio’s forearms.

Without ceremony, Ignis pulls off his wet t-shirt, and the Shield strangles a noise that rises in his throat. As the door swings closed behind them, Gladio reflects on two unpredictable phenomena—

Summer storms, and Ignis Scientia. 

**Author's Note:**

> This author responds to all comments! Feel free to talk to me directly on Tumblr (hard-noct-life) and Twitter (@HardNoctLife).
> 
> Art is by @aceflorins (Tumblr/Twitter)


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